


White Trash River

by BryceWrites



Series: Broken Measures [12]
Category: Sons of Anarchy, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Emotional, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Near Death, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 03:08:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7249609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BryceWrites/pseuds/BryceWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The drive back to Georgia was the hardest thing Kelsi had ever done, leaving Juice behind. Daryl and Merle welcome her back with open arms, but Daryl doesn't understand why she left. Sometimes family is all you have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Trash River

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this is kind of short, but I thought this was needed for the transition to the next parts of the story. Please enjoy!

I figured I’d have to stop and ask directions at least once after I crossed the state lines into Georgia, but I didn’t. I drove on auto pilot the whole way. I was surprised when I glanced at the clock to see eight hours had passed since I’d looked at it last. I’d been zoning out for the last forty-eight hours.

Well, it was closer to forty-nine. I’d barely slept since I left Charming. The drive was longer than I remembered, but I’d also stopped and stayed for a week here or two weeks there on my way to California almost ten years before. So making the whole trip in one sitting was killing me. I just wanted to get out of the car and do some jumping jacks.

It was odd, how things along the way had changed, but they also didn’t. The old Shoe Barn that we’d buy our thrift shoes from was now a liquor store. The old wine place that would sell to underage kids was now a book store. I’d thought the neighborhood would’ve changed, new buildings would’ve gone up, confusing me of the landmarks.

But they hadn’t. It looked the same as it did when I was a kid. I started to turn down Birch where our old house had been, but I remembered seeing the pile of ash and burnt wood after the house had burned to the ground and continued down Rockwell Drive until it made a sharp right, leading to the houses out in the boonies, the ones with more than one acre of property.

Our house sat right next to Farmer Johnson’s, who hated us moving around his property. He generally hated kids as a whole, but us in particular; mostly because Daryl and I thought it was fun stripping the bark off the trees on his back twenty. Our house sat on twenty-five acres, and his house sat on almost eighty acres, but I could see his front porch from ours.

Pulling into the driveway was like jumping through a time warp. I glanced at the steering wheel to see if I was driving the Intrepid, or the ‘67 Chevy pickup that had been mine and Daryl’s first vehicle, a hand-me down from Merle once he got something else.

I parked the car and slowly climbed out. Merle sat in a rockin’ chair on the porch, the old yellow bulb casting him in an eerie light; not that the man needed any help looking like a devil. Daryl stood, leaning against the support beam. Both of them watched me as I pulled my backpack from the back seat, and threw all my worldly possessions over my shoulder.

Approaching the porch was difficult for me. I didn’t want to hear how I was a fuck up, or how I’d disappointed them. I didn’t want to hear any ‘I told ya so’s. So I hung my head and stopped when I was spitting distance away, waiting for one of the older men to say something.

“Nice drive, little sister?” Merle’s harsh voice called to me.

I shrugged. “Didn’t care for it much the first time; didn’t care much this time around.” I told him, still keeping my eyes diverted.

“Where’s the rest of yer stuff?” Daryl asked.

“I uh… I only took what I needed. He didn’t need me robbin’ him blind too.” I mumbled.

“Shoulda. Fuckin’ wet back probably deserved it.” Merle said with a chuckle.

I took a step away from the porch, involuntarily. His words stung me and now, even though I was already hiding my face, I had to fight back tears for the words spoken against the only man I’d ever loved. I turned away from them, facing the car as I took a deep breath. If Merle saw me cry, I was done for. I might as well just head back to California to burn at the stake.

One of them jumped down from the porch, coming up behind me. Normally, I would’ve panicked. But I knew neither of them had bad intentions, so I stayed where I was.

“He hurt ya?” Daryl’s gruff voice asked me quietly.

I shook my head, putting my hand up to cover my face. “Nah, nah he didn’t hurt me.” I told him.

“Then why ya cryin’?” His words came gently.

“I loved him, ya know. I just… I just don’t want to hear him talk about Juice like that.” I whispered, knowing Merle didn’t give a damn one way or another.

“Why’d ya leave?” Daryl asked.

“The club is his only family. I was making him choose between them or me. I couldn’t make him do that, so I left. He needed them more than me anyway.” I told him, scrubbing a hand over my face.

Daryl’s arms wrapped around me from behind and he held me tightly for a moment. “Made yer bed.”

“Because he’s a bitch ass boy that takes it up the ass.” Merle called loudly.

I ignored Merle, the same way I had easily done since I was old enough to talk. “Thanks Daryl.” I said, readjusting how the backpack sat on my shoulder once he let go of me. “I’m just gonna go to bed. Ain’t been sleepin’ well.” I told him, heading for the porch. Merle just grinned as I walked past him, into the house. I didn’t look at the couch or the TV that hadn’t moved in ten years. I didn’t look at dad’s favorite recliner; the one that was his throne on game nights. I didn’t look at the kitchen to see how disgusting the boys had let it get.

Mine and Daryl’s room hadn’t changed a whole lot either. I’d hung a bunch of posters with thumb tacks the year the record store went in on Main Street in town; they’d all been long removed, but you could see the color difference in the paint even now. The furniture had been moved around, but it was all the same stuff. I sat heavily on the bed, knowing this wasn’t where I wanted to be.

I’d rather be back in Charming, on the back of a motorcycle, or at the clubhouse while their traditional Friday night parties went on. But I wasn’t. I had to be here, because that was what was best right now. I made a quick decision to only be here as long as I needed. I knew living with Merle would drive me to drink as much as he did. So I’d work on getting a job tomorrow and a place to rent after my first paycheck.

The phone Juice had bought me was in the front pocket of my jeans, suddenly burning a hole through me. I pulled it out, having left it on silent the whole drive, so I wouldn’t be tempted to look at it. I’d disabled the GPS when I’d turned it to quiet so he couldn’t track me, although I was sure it wasn’t hard to find Dixons in Georgia through the phonebook.

I had ten missed calls and twenty-three text messages. Most of them were from Juice, a few from Chibs, a few from Jax, and one from Happy. I didn’t want to read the ones from Jax, Chibs or Juice, because I knew they’d say how stupid I was and to tell me to come back home. So I decided I should at the very least read the one from Happy.

“Gemma was wrong. I’m fine. Come home.” I read quietly to myself.

Without another thought, I hit the call button and put the phone up to my ear. I knew the guys would be on the porch for another couple hours, so I was free to talk to whoever I wanted without the fear of being overheard. The guys never crowded when they knew they weren’t supposed to.

“Where the fuck are you?” Happy’s voice greeted me.

“The fuck am I? The fuck are you? I heard you almost died.” I told him, glaring at the wall.

Happy sighed loudly. “I didn’t almost fucking die. I’m gonna kill people though.”

“So ya wanna elaborate, or ya gonna make me guess?” I asked.

“Tig almost died, but he was faking being a snitch, so that comes with the territory.” Happy said.

“I’mma need more than that, Lowman.” I sighed, leaning down and rubbing my forehead.

“Clay thought Tacoma was dirty, so he sent us up there like we came on our own, hoping to get in on their business. Tig played the snitch, pretending to run to Clay to tell him what was going on. We got shot at, they got shot at, some of them are dead and we came home.” Happy wrapped it up.

I shook my head, feeling my head pulse. “Gemma told me that Juice was checking his phone for anything from me and not keepin’ watch when somebody started shooting and you almost died.”

“That’s not even what happened.” He said, sounding confused as to how this new story even appeared.

“Considering you were there, I’ll take your word.” I told him.

“So come back.” He spoke again.

I shook my head, wondering if there was ever a way to communicate the small gesture over the phone. “I can’t, Happy.”

“Bullshit.” He said.

I ran my hand over my face. “Gemma obviously wanted me gone for good. She came into the office while I was updating spreadsheets and told me I’d been stealing from TM. She tried to pin expensive charges on me, which I explained where they went and she blew up, telling me I was tearing the club apart. Talk like that don’t get pulled outta somebody’s ass without a damn good reason.”

Happy was quiet for a moment and I could hear something rustling around in the background. “She said you yelled at her and threw a wrench at her car before speeding off.”

“I’m gonna kill this bitch.” I said without thinking about it, then my body froze up. Gemma was the Queen of the club. She had almost as much pull as Clay. Insulting her in front of a member was the same as disrespecting Clay.

Happy just burst into laughter. “I’d pay to see that.”

“Oh, don’t let me fool ya. I could take Momma Bitch any day of the week.” I told him sternly. I remembered the feeble me, who wouldn’t have ever said anything bad, in hopes to not get hurt. But I was stronger now. I knew what it was like to be weak and I couldn’t let myself be that again.

Happy only chuckled. “I know ya could.”

I smiled a little. For all his front, pretending he was pissed about the existence of everything, makin’ all mean; he was a big softy, and one of the best people in the club. “I’m sorry ya got shot at. Ain’t no fun.” I told him, remembering when the club got shot to pieces.

“Eh. Ain’t the first. Ain’t the last.” He told me.

I nodded. “How’s Juice holding up?” I asked quietly.

“Come see for yourself.” He told me.

“Happy…” I trailed off.

He sighed. “Yeah, I know. Queen Bitch pissed ya off. He’s fine. Drinkin’ more, I guess. Chibs and Jax have been keepin’ a close eye on him, though, not lettin’ him get too bad. Clay’s starting to worry though.”

“Hey. Don’t… don’t tell nobody.” I murmured.

“ ‘Bout Gemma?” He asked.

“Yeah. Just let her do her own thing. I don’t wanna be startin’ shit after I’m already out of there. So just let her do her own thing.” I told him, feeling too tired for this conversation.

He was quiet for a moment. “If I catch her slip up, I’ll point it out. But ain’t gonna start nothin’.”

I nodded. That was good enough for me. “I’m gonna disconnect this number, so I don’t get no more texts from Juice. Just watch after him and help him get back on his feet. He’ll be okay.” I knew I was saying the words for myself, not for the man I’d left behind.

“I’ll watch after him, but it ain’t me he needs.” He told me and the line disconnect sound clicked before I pulled the phone away and saw the counter flash, telling me the call ended.

In a sudden fit of rage, I threw the phone at the wall, shattering it into a million pieces. I heard footsteps and then saw Daryl, silently asking me what was wrong. He saw the phone on the ground and looked back at me. I toed off my boots and crawled into bed, still in my jeans, knowing he wouldn’t ask anything else of me. I heard the soft click of the door closing and I closed my eyes tightly, hoping to keep my tears in.

 

* * *

 

Sleep came and went for me that night. I slept about as well as I had in the car, which wasn’t as well as I wanted to. False light broke over the hills in the distance and I sighed, moving to get out of bed. I ran through the shower, putting on clean clothes and pulling my hair back out of my face. I walked through the house quietly, as to not alert the other members that I was awake.

The sink was full of dirty dishes, the trash was overflowing. So I set to work. With nothing better to do, I put a load of dishes in the washer while I hand washed and set the others on a towel on the counter to dry. Three bags full of trash were taken out to the can by the end of the porch that one of the guys would drive to the end of the driveway on Wednesday when the trash truck made its rounds. I started a load of laundry before I’d got to the dishes, so I changed that. I realized I hadn’t made coffee yet, so I set to work on the pot, adding coffee grounds and water before hitting the button.

I was surprised all the appliances worked. I expected the dishwasher to be broken, or the washing machine to not work. But they all did. I smiled a little. The main rooms of the house were starting to look good. There wasn’t petrified pizza in a box on the couch, there wasn’t beer cans everywhere, there wasn’t underwear and socks hanging from places they shouldn’t have been.

A hand touched my shoulder and I jumped, moving quickly away from the person it belonged to. Daryl watched me quietly for a moment. “Didn’t know you got skittish.”

I tucked my hair behind my ears and ducked my head. “That happens when people hit you.” I told him, heading for the coffee pot. I poured him a cup, leaving it black, just the way he liked it. I poured myself a cup and added a spoon of sugar to just take the edge off the bitter taste.

“He really messed ya up.”

I looked over at him, not knowing if it was a question or a statement, but when his eyes caught mine, I knew it was a statement. He was telling me. I nodded a little. “Guess so.” I commented.

“Queens never did that.” Daryl murmured.

I looked over at him, confused as to what he was talking about, Queens. But I remembered Juice was from Queens. It was apparently the nickname my brother had given my most recent lover. “Nah. Nah he didn’t.” I agreed.

“So why ya here?” He asked quietly, like he was exhausted. I hadn’t heard Daryl put as much into a set of words in as long as I could remember. Like he was exhausted and although he seemed glad to see him, he seemed drained from the situation, like he’d spent a long time thinking about it.

I shrugged, leaning on the counter, crossing my arms over my chest. “I needed a place to stay.”

“Don’t fuckin’ avoid me. Why ya here?” He asked again.

I bit my lip, ducking my head. “Jax’s mom, Gemma, came to me three days ago. She was pissed about the bookkeeping for some reason.” I shrugged. “She tried to blame her expensive stuff on me and I showed her where it was. So since that didn’t work, she told me I was tearing the MC apart; making Juice pick me over his family.”

Daryl tilted his head like I was speaking alien.

I nodded. “Even told me one of his brothers almost died, waitin’ on my call. Guy called me last night and told me she’s lyin’ out of her ass. He never got shot and Juice wasn’t the reason they got shot at.”

“So get yar ass back to Cali. Beat a bitch’s ass.” Daryl said, gesturing away from his body.

“Ain’t that easy. I already broke it to Juice, broke his heart and maybe his head. I can’t just ride back into town, guns blazin’ sayin’ ‘I’m here to kill Queen MC Bitch.’ Ain’t work like that.” I told him with the same gesture.

He shook his head. “Kelsi Jo I knew wouldn’t let some biker bitch step on her.”

“The Kelsi Jo you knew is dead.” I growled at him, grabbing my purse and makin’ for the door.

”Where ya think yar goin’?” Daryl said, running out to the porch.

“Inta town.” I called, making sure to speed out of the driveway so I flung gravel at the porch.


End file.
